Romans & histoires Prisoner

“I haven't seen anyone here in such a long time. Stay. Old Ozakh has a lot to tell you. And I stayed because I was alone too. The prisoner turned out to be a delonh, his hands were chained to the wall, but, despite this, the cell door was locked with three reliable locks. He did not tell me what he was guilty of, he did not tell me why he was doomed to such an existence. He could not die, the Delonchi had already crossed the line of their lives long ago, but left without food, he weakened so much that he could no longer move and could only speak with difficulty. He talked non-stop when I came to him. He was waiting for me, waiting all the time.

Larry froze: "I don't want it, and I can't take it, it's against the rules." "Don't you want to join the team?" Alex tilted her head and looked at Larry. "How can we withhold all these stuff, what about the prisoners?" Larry argued: "This is a big injustice in this prison, it is to be suspended and investigated." "You don't have a way out now." "Don’t I?" Larry said. "Really? Look, what is this?" Alex handed a laptop to Larry. When he opened it, there was a video of a man and woman entwined, both of them without clothes on.

Hannah was banging the cold cell, calling for the guard's attention. "Miss Wilson, its time for everyone to shut thier eyes. if I were you, I will keep my mouth shut or you will suffer in trouble again." The guard reminded her of the days that she first came into the prison. Back then she hadn't fully recovered with the gunshot in her leg yet she was forced to face the charges from the Stanford family together with Mike in court. The verdict come out and they were sentenced 10 years in prison.

The woman abruptly stopped coughing and turned her head to look at the source of that voice, only to discover the guy she had trusted her whole life approaching her. "Keres..." She whispered weakly. The guy, the one responsible for the devastation engulfing this nation, and the only reason she is still alive. Her captor. Valorian Keres Joaquim, the crown prince of the kingdom himself. Amerie saw Keres' real nature despite his golden-threaded hair, sky-blue eyes, and angelic features. How could she not? She had been with him for ten years, unable to support anybody other than him. "Aren't you proud of my feat, watching the performance from the finest seat in the house?"

People, adults and children, gathered in the village to see the prime minister for the last time in their life. They watched the grey-haired man sitting inside the iron jail, his face pale and his legs shaking. He was caged like an animal —­ though he was far worse than an innocent tiger. The villagers shouted insults and threats and threw stones at him. The prisoner had no more leather or fancy fabrics on his body. Now, he was only but lower than a beggar with his stained shirt and trousers. He was shoeless, and his feet were bleeding.

The second cell, the third, and all the way up to the sixth cell he was not happy. Prince Aldridge felt frustrated but held his frustration and composed himself. They reached the seventh cell where a prisoner was sitting on the floor in the middle of the cell with his legs crossed. His arms were bound behind his back and had an iron collar around his neck with five chains chained to it which were attached to the wall.

He says so but he stops sucking and looks at Erin with mischievous eyes, " From now on, you're my prisoner. My one and only blood bank. I am addicted to your blood. I don't think I can let go of it anymore. So bear it! My SWEET RARE PRISONER." Erin's heart skips a bit in fear. "One and only? His prisoner? What's he talking about?", is what going in her head right now. She wants to shout at him and give him a tight slap. This guy is crazy. Playing with others however he wants! This is ridiculous. Erin's struggling to get out from Edward's clutch. She shouts at him, "Let go of...". But before she co

“How sketchy?” “The back of the van’s basically a metal cage welded to the interior frame with a couple steel benches on either side. The two prisoners already in it look like they haven’t bathed in a week and they’ve been using a metal urinal connected to a drainage tub. Probably for the same amount of time.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, Shepard cursed again. “Extradition’s a state responsibility and most of them contract with these kinds of services. Does it at least look like they can’t get out of the cage?”

The prisoner's black hair cascaded down his forehead and hid most of his youthful face. Enzir walked around the prisoner and noticed the slow movements of the prisoner's back as the latter breathed. The prisoner's shirt was torn at the back, exposing his unbroken skin and the mark of seven joined circles tattooed on his left shoulder blade. Enzir paused briefly to look at the tattoo and then walked to the other side of the apparatus to face the prisoner. Bending low, Enzir looked at the prisoner's face

In the summer of 1980, after the college entrance exam, my friend Lucas Grant came out to my house and clapped me on the shoulder. "Evan Cole, you missed the cutoff by twenty points. College was never in the cards for you. Let it go." I believed him. The next day I went south for work. Over the next four years I learned a trade, repairing imported precision machinery, the kind nobody else would touch. Then Meridian Chemical Works, twenty minutes from the house I grew up in, hired me on as a specialist machinist. On my first morning I stopped in front of the honor board outside the administration building. Under "Outstanding Production Workers," I saw my own name. Evan Cole. But the